


Sweet Serendipity

by ApocalypticRepo



Series: Serendipity [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, Very little practice with sex scenes be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypticRepo/pseuds/ApocalypticRepo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insert witty summary about my Dovahkiin Nathaniel wanting dear little Ronthil & whatnot. Prompt by skyrimkinkmeme. Along with my love for little innocent Ronthil who sleeps behind a bookshelf the poor dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Serendipity

Politics drove him up a wall. He disliked greatly the rabble of people who deemed themselves above the common man in pursuit of their own personal goals despite their empty claims of ‘doing it for the people’. Perhaps there were a few true gentile politicians who had their hearts set on the betterment of mankind, but Nathaniel had yet to see it. Even after he had sided with the Stormcloaks in a hasty coin-flip decision (and the fact that the Imperials had tried to behead him even though he had done nothing wrong except cross the border to return home), he wasn’t used as a freedom fighter but more as flag to show that the Dragonborn was on the side of the Stormcloaks and the Imperials could choke on the Dominion’s pecker.

He had done it all since returning to Skyrim. He just wanted to come home, see his mother and father (who he had discovered was killed during an Imperial ambush of a Stormcloak camp they were assisting with healing in) and maybe set down roots. That plan fell into a gorge to never been seen again for years. He traveled the length of Skyrim several times over: Discovered he was the Dragonborn when he was shanghaied into slaying a dragon outside of Whiterun, joined a guild that complemented his talents as a thief and became their Guild Master, became the Harbinger of the Companions and the Listener to the infamous Dark Brotherhood and successfully assassinated the Emperor of Tamriel and finally became the Arch Mage of the Mage’s College in Winterhold. In that time he defeated the World-Eater Alduin, ended a civil war in favor of Ulfric (he still bore a grudge that the Empire tried to behead him when he was crossing the border to come _home_ ) and stopped a moronic Altmer elf from blowing up the rest of Winterhold. This wasn’t the home he left, but it was home now.

And just when he thought it was all over and he could settle down and start a family: Serana came along. Which started yet another campaign of mass murder across Skyrim, but not only against the Dawnguard that hunted him down whenever they could collect themselves for an attack, but killing Harkon to be sure that the prophecy of the sun being taken out of the equation never came to pass. As much as the sun irritated his skin now, the world needed the sun.

He finally started to relax after he defeated Harkon and settle in to his new title of Vampire Lord and Master of Castle Volkihar. He spent most of his days sitting in his new quarters (Harkon’s old chambers), sitting in a chair with a goblet of fresh blood from one of the cattle and watching the fire dance in the fire place. He had changed up the place from the bloodied and horrified state the previous Master Vampire had left it in, removing the cage and the torture rack since both were distasteful to have in a proper Nord’s quarters. He had kept the coffin in the back portion of the room where it had been previously, but he had moved the study area to the lower portion and placed a large bed for those days when he didn’t want to sleep in an uncomfortable coffin. He didn’t necessarily _like_ to sleep standing upright and preferred the soft sheets of his bed. He had a few weapons racks hung up in the room with various weapons he had collected in his travels, the bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books he had hoarded (guilty pleasure). All in all, the room was… respectful. Normal to a point with the exception of a few vials of blood that littered the table tops.

Orthjolf and Vingalmo were about to be fed to the death hounds if they kept bickering over Nathaniel’s attention, Fura was a bitch, Garan and Feran were tolerable almost likable, but none of them topped the young, skittish and terrified of a blowing leaf Ronthil. Ronthil, the young Bosmer always greeted him pleasantly when the others sneered at him before he became the Lord of Castle Volkihar. He had his redish hair styled like that of a typical elf (gravity defying) and a thin face that was marred with a bruise on most days. Feran would never lay a hand on his assistant, but Vingalmo’s scent would stain the poor thing’s skin for days no matter how much he bathed, scrubbing his skin until he was pigmented pink. Vingalmo was not… polite for lack of a better term and definitely wouldn’t be polite to the submissive little elf.

Ronthil also did him the favor of caring for the blinded Dexion that Nathaniel didn’t have the heart to kill or throw out into the world. He led Dexion around when asked and brought him actual food from the stores that Nathaniel had purchased just for the blind Moth Priest. Vingalmo protested Dexion staying there, but Nathaniel responded that he would rip his throat out and feed it to the hounds rather than allow him to even touch Dexion. Only Nathaniel was allowed to feed from him (not that he did) and only Nathaniel could make decisions on what Dexion did. He allowed Ronthil to tend to the man when he had noticed him bring Dexion some lunch of a crunchy rabbit leg and grilled leeks with a sort of cheese sauce that Ronthil seemed good at making.

Ronthil jumped at every person that approached him and said something. He always apologized for things he didn’t do or that the thought would bring offense to someone like Nathaniel. He was overtly shy, to a fault. Each vampire in the court was out for power, killing whoever stood in their way if they thought they could take them (none dared challenge Nathaniel ever since the last one after the defeat of Harkon). Each vampire, except for Ronthil. Ronthil was more… needy, the best he could describe the young vampire’s demeanor. He was nervous about interacting with anyone other than Feran (maybe Garan), scared of what Vingalmo could do to him and terrified of Fura who took out her violent pleasure on him. The poor man had suffered so much abused under these vampires; it was actually a surprise that he was still alive.

From the light threatening to break through even the smallest crack of the one window in the room, it was still around mid-afternoon. The others were either asleep or feeding ravenously on several of the cattle in the dining hall without killing the pathetic beings as to not anger the cattle master. Nathaniel set down his goblet on the end table and pushed himself out of his seat, the leather of his chest piece creaking in protest to the movement. He folded his hands behind his back and wandered down the stairs to see if young Ronthil was still awake or if he was sleeping like the rest of them. He never really came down during the day, only leaving at night due to the sun’s effect on him.

He wandered down the stairs, patting CuSith on the head as he passed. Garan was not standing by the balcony, meaning he had gone to sleep. CuSith followed obediently behind his master, low woofing every few seconds. Nathaniel made it to the overlooking balcony of the laboratory leaning against the railing. He couldn’t see anyone working. Feran had gone to sleep only an hour prior, but not before popping in to give Nathaniel a remedy to help with a headache he had gotten from Vingalmo and Orthjolf.

His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed legs poking out from behind the bookshelf. “Who in the…?” He muttered walking the walkway, trailing his hand along the railing. CuSith whined at his master’s mild distress and stayed put. He swiftly went down the stairs and eventually stopped by the feet of the person. He gazed around the bookshelf and was floored when he saw the sweet and shy Ronthil sleeping there, curled into a sort of ball. There wasn’t even a bedroll under him for comfort; just him and the cold stone floor. Nathaniel knelt down closer to the vampire, watching him breathe and shift uncomfortably in his sleep. His arms were his pillows and he wasn’t even granted a blanket. Nathaniel shook his head and lightly touched Ronthil’s shoulder.

He didn’t even twitch. He was so exhausted that he fell into a state of unconsciousness instead of sleep. Another shake of his head had Nathaniel looping his arms under Ronthil’s knees and around his shoulders, lifting him with ease. Ronthil stirred a bit but stayed asleep thankfully. With the grace of a Master Vampire Lord, Nathaniel ascended the stairs and made his way back to his quarters. CuSith grunted a bark and padded off to sleep with Garmr for the rest of the morning.

He kicked open the doors to his quarters and walked to the bed, gently depositing the sleeping vampire on top of it. He slipped the covers out from underneath him and covered him, making sure he was tucked in and safe. Nathaniel sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Ronthil shift and curl into the blankets contently. Ever so lightly, he trailed a hand along the fine jaw of his face enjoying the feel of the Bosmer’s skin; so soft and delicate for someone of the undead. In a flash, he removed his hand and left the bedside as to not disturb Ronthil while he slept.

He wandered over to his desk and took a seat, writing missives and reading letters from his various companions in charge of day to day operations. The Thieves Guild was mostly left in the capable hands of Vex, Delvin and Brynjolf who he wouldn’t trust the Guild with anyone else at this point. Not even Karliah had a say in what went on even though she was the _senior_ member since she was the last of the original Nightingale Trinity, but he was still wary of her since she _did_ shoot him with an arrow leaving him exposed to be stabbed by Mercer.

Tolfdir kept the Mages College working steadily with no accidental explosions to cause a repeat of the Great Collapse or any of the students setting themselves on fire. Onmund helped where he could with it, having been personally trusted to care for Nathaniel’s quarters while he was gone since the man was his best friend there as a fellow Nord. He was nervous about the proposition, but eventually accepted slotting in the role quite well.

Nazir was keeping the new assassins in line and making sure they didn’t botch a contract. When the Night Mother would speak to him, it would send a name with a courier to the inn in Dawnstar where Nazir would frequent to check for the letters. He honestly wished the old corpse would pick someone else since hearing voices in his head didn’t exactly put him on the sane list. Often times he would get names of people he knew and would tell the Night Mother to piss off. She seemed to not bother him too much about the contracts he purposely ignored since she hadn’t had a Listener in years and Nathaniel constantly reminded her that it was her fault that Cicero went insane, the poor man.

There were various other letters as well like one from Ulfric inviting him to a dinner with the other Jarls of Skyrim, but he politely declined since eating regular food upset his stomach something fierce. There was another from that bitch Delphine who apparently didn’t get the memo to fuck off when it came to Paarthurnax and that he wasn’t going to gut the dragon no matter if he _was_ Alduin’s lieutenant. She and Esbern were still barking up a storm about it saying the dragons had to be exterminated, but if he got word that they were spotted up in High Hrothgar from the Greybeards there would be a reckoning that they would NOT walk out of alive. A few thank you letters from numerous citizens of Skyrim, some pleas for help and brochures for stores he frequented. Most of it was junk that he would throw into the fire.

He perked up when he heard a small yelp from the sleeping vampire in his bed and he glanced up at the second platform of his chambers. Ronthil was sitting straight up in the bed, looking around like a startled elk, his eyes wide and full of fear. “Where…?” He questioned before glancing in Nathaniel’s direction. The moment their eyes met, Ronthil flew out of bed like a bat out of Molag Bol’s portion of Oblivion. “My Lord! I-I am sorry! I must have slept walk and I-I’m so terribly sorry for-“

“Ronthil!” Nathaniel shouted a little harsher than he meant to since it caused the startled elf to wince. “Be calm. I brought you here while you slept.” He got off of his chair and walked his way up to Ronthil who was still stiff as a board.

The Bosmer looked up at him like an elk staring down the notched arrow of a drawn bow. Nathaniel watched him with a sort of predatory gaze. “Why do you sleep on the floor behind the bookshelf?” He asked getting well within Ronthil’s personal bubble he had set up for himself. Up close he could see just how delicate and skittish the Bosmer male was in desperate need of attention and protection. His eyes darted to every possible hiding place in Nathaniel’s chambers to protect himself.

“I-I… The others… they don’t…” He stammered but the story was already laid out. The others wouldn’t allow him to sleep amongst them because they deemed him lower than them -- Someone not even worthy to be in their presence. Such is the life of the Court.

Nathaniel allowed his finger to hook under Ronthil’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “That will continue no longer if you agree to what I’m going to ask you next.” Ronthil’s eyes widened at the prospect of not sleeping behind a bookshelf anymore. Nathaniel smirked at his correct assumptions: Ronthil was more than happy to be taken care of for once in his life. “I’ve been watching you, Ronthil. And I am not pleased with what I see happen to you.”

“M-My Lord?”

“You seek to please, but no one appreciates you for it. Others use you, beat you, violate you without so much as a comforting tone. I seek to change that, if you will have me,” Nathaniel spoke evenly, not allowing any emotion to slip through aside from lust. “I offer you my protection.”

“Protection?”

“You will be mine. You can still do your work for Feran if you would please, but no one else is allowed to use you, to touch you, to command you. Only me. And I assure you, I am not unkind. I had been watching you since I first spoke to you. Your hard work and diligence to please all around you has not gone unnoticed. If anyone dares to lay a hand on you, you will come to me and I will deal with it. And you would be allowed the use of my chambers as you please.”

Nathaniel could see the emotions flitting about through the Bosmer’s gold eyes, having a hard time believing what the just heard it seems. “Yes,” The elf finally said.

With a low lustful growl, Nathaniel hauled the Bosmer off his feet causing the frightful thing to yelp and instinctively wrap his legs around Nathaniel’s waist. He smirked when Ronthil’s face betrayed his surprise that he was allowing such a thing to occur as he walked toward the bed once more. If he was going to take his elf, he was going to do this right.

The slight elf blushed when he was gently lowered to the soft covers of the bed like that of a lover instead of roughly thrown down like Vingalmo would do as he violated the poor smaller elf. Nathaniel would have to be sure that Vingalmo had no intention of laying a hand on his elf ever again. Ronthil submitted to Nathaniel like he had always been the Lord’s, craning his neck when the Lord ghosted kisses over the exposed flesh, nipping and biting lightly as he traveled to the rim of his armor collar.

Nathaniel’s expert fingers unlatched the leather armor, stripping the elf in no time flat leaving his lithe chest exposed to Nathaniel’s hungry eyes. He was beyond thin, the points of his collarbone sharp against his skin from lack of proper nutrition and the amount of abuse his body put up with. There were fresh bruises in the shape of fingers poking out from what his trousers covered on his hips that made Nathaniel angry. The bruises were long and thin to match that of a High Elf and Vingalmo was close to have his fingers broken off and fed to CuSith who he could hear pacing the corridor outside his chambers to ward off any unwanted guests (namely everyone).

Nathaniel bent down and lightly kissed the bruises which earned him a shudder from the submissive elf beneath him. He looked up at Ronthil’s face to see his face had gotten exceptionally red and his eyes were closed from embarrassment. “Why do you close your eyes?” Nathaniel asked leveling himself with Ronthil’s face.

He cracked his eyes open and admitted, “I am… ashamed that my b-body is not more a-appealing.” Any other protest he may have made had fallen short when Nathaniel bent and planted a sensual kiss on the little elf’s lips.

When they parted, Nathaniel smiled and purred, “I’m going to claim you as my own. Your body is very appealing to me, Ronthil.” He bent down and licked at the tip of Ronthil’s pointed ear making him shiver. He repeated the licks until Ronthil let out a small moan but clamped up again when the noise came out. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” Nathaniel whispered in the elf’s ear and kissed the tip again as a sort of encouragement to keep making those noises.

Ronthil shivered again in anticipation to what was no doubt to come and for once he wasn’t afraid of the act. He hadn’t felt this safe in his undead life, not even when his sire was still alive. And now, he had Nathaniel who was willing to put up with him and protect him.

Ronthil laid a cautious hand on his Lord’s shoulder, pushing on it experimentally. Nathaniel gave him another smile and allowed the hand to guide him until he was on his back on the furs of the bed. Ronthil slowly slid down the length of his new master’s body until he was kneeling between Nathaniel’s strong thighs looking up anxiously for approval. Nathaniel propped himself up on his elbows and nodded for the approval Ronthil needed. He fumbled nervously on the ties of the trousers that tented over his master’s arousal, feeling a little bit happy that Nathanial was aroused because of him.

The first of the tentative licks deepened his Lord’s breathing in anticipation. This encouraged Ronthil to get bolder taking the head of the cock between his red kiss-swollen lips. He sucked and licked at the slit reducing his master to a panting mess, finally getting the first moan out of the man when he bobbed his head down. Nathaniel fisted the furs and sheets to prevent himself from grabbing Ronthil’s fine hair and forcefully mouth-fuck him to receive more gratification. With Ronthil, he needed to be patient lest he scare away the young elf.

Ronthil took the cock deeper until the tip hit the back of his throat, forcing his gag reflex to calm itself. His nose was nearly pressed against his master’s pubic hair and that made Nathaniel wild. His hand swiftly buried itself in Ronthil’s hair, holding him there to enjoy the feeling of his entire cock being engulfed in the wet cavern and touching the back of the elf’s throat.

He pulled back up gasping for air, but smiled at his master’s reaction. He went to do it again, but Nathaniel’s hand in his hair stopped him. “I don’t want to cum yet,” He panted pulling him up so that Ronthil was straddling his waist. “I want to see you writhe.” Ronthil shivered at the near animalistic tone Nathaniel’s voice fell into as his eyes darted over his body.

Flipping them over, Nathaniel moved Ronthil’s arms above his head, keeping them pinned in one large palm while the other lightly held his jaw. With very gentle force, he turned Ronthil’s head to the side exposing his neck in full to the Vampire Lord. “You’re mine,” He whispered.

Ronthil moaned out in response, “All yours.” He arched his head back further to give him more access, a silent agreement to Nathaniel’s statement.

He barely had time to gasp when Nathaniel sunk his fangs into his neck, but didn’t suck. The fangs withdrew and he licked at the blood that peppered out. Nathaniel smirked at the mark he left and said, “Now everyone will know you are mine.”

The marked burned, but it was a sweet burn that Ronthil would always cherish. Nathaniel sucked willfully on his fingers before lowering them to Ronthil’s arse hole, poking and prodding at the tight ring of muscle. Ronthil gasped at the tender notion, not used to such treatment before. Vingalmo didn’t give him such pleasure, only slicking his own cock up to avoid rubbing his dick raw on Ronthil’s insides. This only reminded him that Nathaniel truly wanted him and cared as he had said.

The digit sunk in knuckle deep and Ronthil arched when that finger pressed expertly against that little bundle of nerves that sent his emotions into chaos. Nathaniel twisted the finger around and pressed on that bundle again causing Ronthil to grip the sheets until his knuckles turned white. A second finger was added and Ronthil bit his lip. Nathaniel assaulted that spot just to hear his beloved little elf squirm and moan wantonly and make him feel like nothing else was real only Nathaniel’s fingers twisting and stretching his abused hole. After the third one entered, Nathaniel pulled his fingers out making the Bosmer to moan disappointedly at the loss of the fingers.

Nathaniel grabbed his arms and pulled him up, twisting them so that Ronthil was once again straddling his waist. “I want to ride me. Pick your pace,” He whispered against Ronthil’s sensitive ear. The elf shivered in response, the ear seemingly having a direct line to his dick.

Ronthil reached behind him until he had a hold of Nathaniel’s slick cock, lining it up with his stretched hole. He looked Nathaniel in the eye before sinking himself easily down the hard shaft. Nathaniel’s hands flew to his pointed hips pressing as much as he could into the little elf. Ronthil shifted to adjust to the far larger size than Vingalmo until his cock brushed against that sweet spot that elicited a moan from the elf.

Finding the angle, Ronthil lifted himself up before pressing back down feeling the sweet sting of being stretched from Nathaniel’s large cock. After a few more thrusts, he picked up the pace until both he and Nathaniel were moaning with abandon and Nathaniel had taken over with guiding his hips. He said nothing only moaned louder when Ronthil kneaded his pectoral, his fingernails scraping through the generous amount of chest hair that littered the Nord’s chest. He was fascinated with the way the muscles beneath his fingers rippled and flexed with each touch and movement of pounding into Ronthil.

Ronthil bit his lip harshly when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. “My Lord?” They could hear Garen call out.

Nathaniel started up the pace again, daring Ronthil to hold in his moan with each mind-numbing thrust and answered, “What is it?”

“Orthjolf and Vingalmo request to speak with you.”

“Request…” He paused at the shudder that traveled up his spine at the thought of Garan, Vingalmo or Orthjolf finding little Ronthil being claimed by the strongest Vampire of them all. Vingalmo and Orthjolf would flip their lids. Garan probably wouldn’t have cared, never bothering to acquaint himself with his Lord’s personal life. “Denied!”

Ronthil almost moaned at the particularly hard thrust he delivered at the shout and bit on his knuckle, bouncing on his own accord. Nathaniel shifted so that Ronthil’s back was pressed into the fur, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed and Nathaniel still inside him. Nathaniel grabbed a leg and hoisted if over his shoulder before continuing the pace that made the little elf writhe desperately to not only not cum but to hold back his moans.

“Very well, do you require anything else?”

“Leave, Garan!” Nathaniel hissed in his typical way. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ Garan, it’s just the man didn’t know when to leave him well enough alone like now he was rudely disturbing him claiming his little elf to himself.

“Oh, one more thing: Feran was asking around for Ronthil. Have you seen him?”

“He’s doing something for me! Now leave!” They both listened for Garan’s departing footsteps before Ronthil moaned like a wanton whore and nibbled at Nathaniel’s neck. “Are you about to come, little one?” Nathaniel purred into Ronthil’s ear giving the ear a firm like from the lobe to the point. Nathaniel’s hand wrapped around the erect cock and that was all she wrote.

Ronthil arched almost painfully so as he exploded all over his chest and Nathaniel’s hand, the walls around Nathaniel’s cock tightened. He thrusted a few more times before he too spilt inside of the wondrous little elf he had claimed. They stayed still for a few moments, allowing their heavy breathing to mingle and mix until Nathaniel removed Ronthil’s leg from his shoulder and collapsed on the bed next to the elf as to not crush him.

He leaned over and lightly licked at the bite mark on Ronthil’s neck and kissed it. “Mine,” He muttered wrapping his arms around the little elf. 

“Forever yours.”


End file.
